Even while writing this, I still don't want to cry too much. I have tried hard to live, and tried hard to ease gender dysphoria through HRT, but faced with malice, sometimes I really don't know what to do. The person I've let down most is probably myself. I kept thinking that getting into graduate school would fix everything, but when I got there, I still hadn't got better. Later I faced my gender dysphoria and kept up HRT, but apart from my friends, very few people were willing to understand. Things at home escalated until we couldn't keep living together. I was attacked and insulted online. I couldn't find tutoring work: parents wanted to check my ID, but my appearance and my documents didn't match. I couldn't find an internship either, and began to wonder if I was simply useless. When all of it piles up, it's really hard not to doubt yourself.
To my family. We often argue about being trans, and I never imagined I would end up here. Years ago I told my friends about my gender identity, but I was afraid you wouldn't accept it, so I tried to keep living as a boy. I didn't expect the dysphoria to simply pass. I know you care about what relatives and friends think, and worry about my future, but I also hope you can care about whether I am doing okay right now. I have thought about earning money in the future and taking care of you; but after getting ill, even supporting myself leaves me with very little confidence.
Thank you, Mum, for once accompanying me while I studied. Without you, I might not have made it this far. Still, it's a little hard: I haven't eaten your cooking for a long time. I used to complain that it wasn't good, and only later realized the school food was worse. I also want to tell Dad that it isn't that I don't want to earn money. I applied for many, many tutoring jobs and never succeeded; some agency fees still haven't been returned. I am already very discouraged, and I really don't want to hear that I'm useless again. And Grandma, thank you for raising me. I studied hard and wanted to repay you, but I kept making you worry. There are many things I don't dare tell you, afraid you'll feel bad, and afraid I'll start crying as soon as I speak.
To my friends. I am very afraid of forming relationships—afraid my mood will be bad, afraid of causing trouble for others—but I couldn't hold back; I wanted friendship too much. Knowing you has made me truly happy. Sometimes I also think: the deeper the relationship, the easier it is for you to worry about me. I thought about it and decided not to use real names, to protect your privacy a little.
To the person I loved. The first time I saw you, I already liked you a little. Every parting made me sad, and sometimes I cried secretly. Once, I couldn't hold it in and cried in front of you. I rarely do that in front of others—probably because I cried too much as a child and was always taught that boys shouldn't cry, so I slowly learned to hide it. Thank you for letting me taste what it is to love and be loved. It's just that at the time I still found it very hard to face my own body, and I didn't have the ability to save enough for surgery. The joy of loving someone and the sadness about myself could exist at the same time.
Thank you, too, to the friends and peers I've met over the years. When I was feeling bad, someone was willing to come and stay with me; that is a rare experience for me. I used to think no one would care, but you really came. It feels good to have friends, and going out together feels good too; I just can't help feeling that I've troubled everyone again. And to the people who gave me a place to stay while I drifted, through several moves: wherever I was, someone was willing to catch me for a while. Thank you. I remember those days.
Thank you to the friends I once fangirled with, and to the songs that got me through the low point of high school. Thank you to the friend I've known since childhood; I hope your exams and work go smoothly. Thank you to everyone who accompanied me while I was growing up. Sometimes my requirements are really low: as long as someone hasn't bullied me and is willing to talk to me properly, I remember it for a long time. You let me know that I haven't always been that alone.
To my schools and teachers. During my years of study, I gradually came to understand myself and slowly dared to admit my gender identity. When I was trapped by depression and gender dysphoria, some teachers kept caring about me and helped me deal with quite a few troubles; I remember all of that. But I still hate parts of my high school experience, and that environment where only grades and competition mattered. It seemed I learned many techniques for answering exam questions, but never figured out how else I could live besides taking tests. I also wonder: if I had understood myself earlier and had room to explore earlier, would things have been different?
To my peers online. We face some similar problems: gender dysphoria, and the malice this world produces from time to time. I hope everyone can live a little better, meow. When I see people with family support who have already had surgery, I still envy them; when I see people who started HRT very early, I can't help thinking about those years of mine. Without family support, while also dealing with mental health problems, saving money has never gone smoothly—it really is exhausting. Sometimes I even think that if I could trade part of my academic achievements for understanding myself earlier, I might be willing to. Unfortunately, that exchange can only happen in imagination, and after imagining it I still feel sad.
I've written so much, but what I wanted most was to write down my thanks to my friends first. As for why it hurts so much—maybe it's gender dysphoria, maybe it's the despair that accumulated after failure after failure. In high school I already thought about becoming a girl but didn't dare say it; later I finally encountered more information and talked with friends, but still didn't have the courage to really change. It was only after that especially unbearable period that I started HRT. Looking back now, I still ask: why didn't I start earlier?
The repeated rejections in tutoring and internships have also made me less and less confident. I sent out many résumés and contacted many parents, earned no money, and instead lost agency fees. At those times I easily turned “I failed again” into “I am simply no good,” and even the things I had worked hard for before seemed meaningless. I clearly know I have already done many things, yet when I feel bad, it still seems as if nothing is left.
How much surgery will cost in the future, how my documents and education records should connect, whether I can find work—I haven't sorted these out yet. I used to think there would be answers after finishing school; only now do I realize that many things in life have no standard answer. Watching others move forward makes me anxious too, especially the lives I want very much but can't reach yet.
I'm crying again by the time I write this; there's nothing I can do. For now I can't write a beautiful ending either. I just want to say these things. I have tried—studying, living, HRT, looking for work, and trying to build relationships with others—I have tried. Sometimes I am really tired, and I hope these efforts can be seen too.